


numinous

by notorious



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-05-24 16:44:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14958329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notorious/pseuds/notorious
Summary: (adj.) describing an experience that makes you fearful yet fascinated, awed yet attracted — the powerful, personal feeling of being overwhelmed and inspired.





	1. a & v

**Author's Note:**

> Here lies of the beginnings of filth I never finished.

Alice coaxed Veronica closer with a hand beneath her chin and fed the obedient girl a rosy nipple. The River Vixen had her own panties stuffed into her swollen cunt, still dripping beneath uniform skirt. Took only moments the first time to realize Alice was not fucking around. Mrs. Cooper was adamant in her distaste for Cheryl Blossom’s River Vixens, and despite her appetite for the Lodge girl, she was still one of them, and should endure a special variety of hazing. It was only right.

Alice almost caught herself cooing while Veronica suckled at her breast, tugged it with pearly white teeth, like she’d been hungry for a lifetime. Alice put Veronica on her back and propped the girl’s legs open like this were a medical exam and not a three am booty call in the Register’s back office. Her pussy was plump with fleshy pink lips and a glistening, oozing hole nestled at the crux.

The Lodge girl was the perfect thing to play with. All that fire and still so ripe for the taking.


	2. b & v

She claimed the Black Hood had me in a tizzy. Took me to the Pembrooke, to her father’s office, where she poured a scotch and put me on her lap. I liked when her lips tasted like liquor, when I could lick the liquid love from the inside of her mouth. She loved defiling her father’s sacred space and I loved the lust in those eyes after I sucked her tongue between my lips. I chased the taste from her tongue after every sip. Addiction at its finest.


	3. v & c

Open on Veronica Lodge: seventeen, a most spectacular specimen in her element among love and lust and lost boys and longing for something larger than life.

We’ve begun to lose count of how many times Betty’s made it clear where her heart lies. With Jughead. We know. Jughead, who brings butterflies to her belly. Jughead, who is a man. Veronica tells herself it hasn’t a thing to do with his anatomy. Tells herself Betty doesn’t discriminate like that, doesn’t pick her partners for their privates. She thinks about this too often.

Cut to Cheryl, who always has Red Maple rum and Oxys to spare. She can’t understand why Veronica wastes her time pining after Betty Bumpkin when the young Miss Lodge could have her pick of the football team. Could have her, Riverdale’s finest prize, always with a cherry on top.

Betty exudes blue. Hues of skies, and deep seas, and the Register’s desktop computer when it putzes out. Veronica’s favorite shirts are blue, the ones she still wears. The ones she sleeps in, dreams of Betty in. Those are the shirts Cheryl loves to slip her hands under and claw at seamless skin because to feel, Cheryl must destroy.

Veronica is mostly open to destruction, ready and willing to let Cheryl Blossom rip into her without abandon. Battle scars are something to be proud of. Certainly ones of Blossom red. Veronica is something of an easy target in Cheryl’s scope. She isn’t sure Cheryl is stable, knows she’s a dynamite lay, so isn’t sure she cares much about the former. Definitely doesn’t. Lets Cheryl dope her up and get her drunk. Lays back and lets Cheryl toss her around. It’s a biblical release of inhibitions to relinquish control for a while. Staying in Thornhill on opiates kind of feels like going back in time.


	4. b & v & c & t

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...from the devil on betty's shoulder's pov

You do not have control of your addictions. You have control of what you can touch, you like to think.

You can touch Veronica, trace the dips and curves of her figure. She is scorching and you’ve never wanted to burn yourself so bad. Veronica you can control because she loves you, and you use that. Without fail she’ll be on your doorstep at a moment’s notice. When your shower broke and Archie lay strung out twisted in your sheets, Veronica came to have it fixed. Didn’t even blink when Archie padded into the kitchen in nothing but his boxers. And when you broke your wrist? That night you took a spill off the bleachers when Archie let you clamber all the way up to the top? After too many Natties? Veronica drove you to the hospital. Stayed with you, too, and spent the next two days convincing her economics professor to let her sit the final she missed at your bedside. She prioritizes you and you feed on it.

Cheryl is harder to control, takes more than just touch, and you like that. You like the chase. From hitting on her at Pop’s all the way down to going after her fingertips with your teeth when she draws them along your lips. _Cheryl, baby,_ you’ll coo, _give me your fingers_. And she’ll force them down your throat, and you’ll whine because she’s got those hands with worlds tucked between knuckles, and you ache to feel full of them.

Of the three, Toni may be the toughest, you think, because you’re never sure what she wants from you. She is there, she is consistency where you are missing pieces. She is black, white, gray, red, and yellow; ash and fire , and you’re starting to think you get off on being burned.

And then you remember Archie. Archie, who is your kryptonite. You don’t have him, not completely, and you hate it. I know you do. And I think that’s why you have me now, too. You’d like to take what I have to offer, whether I care to give it up or not. What is it with you and barreling after what isn’t yours to take?

Your eyes are sullen as you hunch over the little brass frame. Crescent shadows set those baby blues deep in your skull. You screw a nostril shut and inhale a tidal wave. Head tips back, lids slide shut, lips part two fingers worth. Cheryl’s hands aren’t the only ones you lust over.

I sit, watch.

Watch how those rippled blonde locks lick just under your jaw. Little flecks of bliss and euphoria litter your cheeks like freckles. You could chance upon constellations in those.

Your lips do a little thing, did you know? Tug up at the corners, then back down, and finally pull outward in a slow, lazy simper that wouldn’t look like a smile to someone who didn’t know you.


	5. c & v

Cheryl wanted what she couldn’t have. 

Especially what she wasn’t supposed to have. 

Veronica was off limits more than anything Cheryl knew before. Mother would have her head for lusting after a woman. If only Mother knew the thoughts plaguing her mind when she lay alone at night with a hand tucked between creamy thighs. 

Cheryl touched herself to thoughts of Veronica’s mouth laving at her tits, tongue stroking rosy nipples. Veronica’s mouth looked luscious and Cheryl longed for the heat of that tongue on her skin. Cheryl wanted to be ruined, degraded, humiliated. She wanted Veronica to fill her pussy with cubes of ice until she shook and whined and leaked cold water from her cunt. She wanted Veronica to fill her with things obscene, things not meant to be held by warm walls of flesh. The handle of a hairbrush, the neck of a bottle, the blunt head of a cucumber. Simply thinking the last one sent shame rippling though her veins, sent color to her cheeks, and embarrassment to her heart.


End file.
